


the thing beneath the surface

by liz_marcs



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jeff Winger-centric, Jeff Winger/Annie Edison (UST/sexual fantasy), Jeff Winger/Britta Perry (mention of friendship/mention of past relationship/sexual fantasy), Jeff Winger/Shirley Bennett (sexual fantasy), Masterbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liz_marcs/pseuds/liz_marcs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff is not obsessed, thankyouverymuch. Although he does wonder about his brain sometimes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	the thing beneath the surface

He is not obsessed, thankyouverymuch.  
  
Okay, yeah, sometimes starting to border on often he gets himself off (in bed, in the shower, during _Mad Men_ for some reason) while imagining what she’d be like if he pushed the right button.  
  
(Abed once said something about Annie’s face. Was it tracing her cheekbone with his fingertips? Brushing her hair off her forehead? Lifting her chin with his fingers? _Wait._ How does Abed even know that about Annie?)  
  
Then again, Britta has featured in quite a few of his X-rated fantasies over the years (it helps he’s got some real-life experience). So has Shirley (sssshhhh, don’t tell Shirley).  
  
(Sue him. He’s a straight guy and they’re all beautiful women, okay?)  
  
The problem isn’t just that the Annie fantasies have started becoming his go-to; they’ve also taken a disturbing turn. The fall of thick, dark hair. The dark red lipstick. The knowing look underneath lowered lashes. The dirty talk whispered through a Disney princess smile. The darker colors of her usual girly fashion choices.  
  
He totally blames Britta for this.  
  
(Why not? _She’s_ the one that told him about the darkest timeline.)  
  
Annie — real Annie — would finally snap and gut him alive she ever knew about his messed up fantasies. It wouldn’t even be the messed up part that would lead to his execution, it’s the fact he has any fantasies about her _at all_. Because he swore up and down, and denied, denied, denied that there was anything whatsoever going on his end and that everything was all in her head.  
  
It’s always been _grow up, Annie_ and _it’s just a crush, Annie_ and _you once were all about Troy, Annie_ in a constant string of no-no-bad-girl that got dumped on her shoulders while he skated away mostly scott-free.  
  
For that alone Annie would cheerfully murder him. Britta would help her hide the body out of sisterhood solidarity.  
  
At least Shirley would pray for his soul, provided she didn’t find out about those few times he imagined Shirley riding him hard and promising him an unending supply of brownies that would never make him fat.  
  
(Seriously. He wonders about his lizard brain sometimes.)  
  
But in all honesty, the problem isn’t the fantasies (it’s not, it’s really _not_ ). He can handle the fantasies and lock them away so no one ever knows. It’s reality that’s becoming a bit of a problem.  
  
Annie has added a black cardigan to her regular wardrobe. And she just as often has taken to wearing dark red lipstick, alternating with the flavored lip gloss. He doesn’t even want to get into whatever it is she’s started doing with her hair. He really, really doesn’t.  
  
And when she sometimes catches him staring at her (in confusion, in the shock of recognition, in simple want) she shoots him a confused glance.  
  
He always responds with a sarcastic smile and crack about something-or-other that’ll make her forget that he even looked in her direction.  
  
It always works.  
  
(Damn, he’s good.)


End file.
